Gifts and Curses
by Bela Skye
Summary: If life's so hard already, why do we bring more trouble down on ourselves? Maybe we like the pain. Because without it, maybe we just wouldn't feel real. Posthogwarts, Draco&Hermione reach their breaking points. And find out love is a gift...and a curse.


**If life's so hard already, why do we bring more trouble down on ourselves? Maybe we like the pain. Because without it, maybe we just wouldn't feel real. Post-hogwarts, Draco&Hermione reach their breaking points. And find out love is a gift...and a curse.**

**Gifts and Curses** by Bela Skye

**Chapter 1 **

_**The Brilliant Dance**_

_**It's Always Tempting to Lose Yourself With Someone Who's Maybe Lost Themselves**_

_**-My So-Called Life**_

Sometimes when she thought of Ron, and now when she saw him, she felt some achy nostalgia for her old self. For the brave, intelligent soul she used to be. There was something vaguely enchanted about that year she was him. There were certain qualities you possessed carelessly. And you couldn't retrieve them when they were gone. The very act of caring made them impossible to regain.

And she knew now, at this exact moment that she would never fall in love with someone ever again. Love ruined her life. She winced as she watched Ron place a diamond ring on the finger of his bride.

"Are you okay?" Ginny asked, ushering her to reality with a concerned look. The petite redhead saddened at seeing the look of despair on her friend's face.

"Yeah I think so," she whispered back, not entirely sure of herself. Ron was now confidently relaying an "I do". She hoped that the crowd would not notice that two of the bridesmaids were talking in the midst of the wedding vows. She adjusted her red bridal dress that kept creeping downward. She had made up an excuse not to go to the bridal shop to be fitted for her dress with Lavender and Ginny so they had guessed her size. It was somewhat insulting that they guessed larger rather than smaller, but she figured she deserved what she got.

"It's almost over," Ginny offered comfortingly. "Maybe you'll meet someone here today," she suggested. Ginny had tried setting Hermione up on countless dates, but it seemed like she would never get over Ron. Ginny could not for the life of her understand why Ron was doing this to Hermione. He _knew _that she was still in love with him. Making Hermione watch as he declared his undying love for another woman was plain cruel. Ginny just didn't understand what had happened between the two of them. She never brought it up. She didn't think that she would ever be able to look at her brother the same after this.

"...And by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride," the minister declared happily, unaware of how many lives were to be ruined by those words. Hermione could feel tears welling up in the back of her eyelids, but her rapid blinking quickly suppressed any need to cry. She tried concentrating on anything but him, anything but her.

Ron looked in the eyes of his new wife, Lavender Brown, and kissed her with the same vigor he had 4 years ago at Hogwarts when they dated during sixth year. Hermione looked down at her feet. 'You haven't changed at all,' she told herself. She was still the jealous child that cried when Ron snogged another girl that she was back then.

The music sounded, announcing the end of the ceremony.

The bride and groom walked arm in arm back down the aisle, the groomsmen and bridesmaid following. Harry, the best man, looked generally happy, although every once in a while he would glance disapprovingly at Lavender's choice of groomsman, Blaise Zabini. Apparently the two were old family friends, but Harry still couldn't get along with any Slytherin even though he was in the adult wizarding world where house placements didn't matter–at least not as much as they used to. Hermione was beginning to realize that everyone had old grudges that they would never get rid of.

Finally, after some hesitance, the two cheerless bridesmaids followed.

The entire hall had exploded into applause. It seemed like all of wizarding London, along with all of their old Hogwarts friends were in attendance. This was the wedding of the year and not being there meant that you were not part of the upper-class magical society. The humiliation of not coming, however, seemed like nothing compared to how she felt right now.

"Now for the first dance!" A DJ booth had been set up inside the spacious hall, complete with a beautiful dance floor, and an enchanted ceiling. Although it was customary for the groom to handle the expenses, Hermione had no doubt that Lavender had paid for all of this. Either that or the Weasleys had won the lottery and she had not been informed.

"...And I want everyone out on that dance floor, or else I'll have to pair you off myself," an overzealous DJ informed the crowd. Hermione watched as seemingly all in attendance paired off, eager to dance the first dance with their dates. Even people she would never have suspected to be dancers, Percy and Penelope for example, had begun to dance to the slow song.

_So this is odd._

_The painful realization that all has gone wrong._

_And nobody cares at all._

_And nobody cares at all._

"Maybe if I sneak out now, no one will notice," she wondered. She stared at the empty tables, realizing that no one but her was still seated. She started to stand up, looking for a quick escape route before she was asked to dance, or worse, the damned DJ paired her up with some pathetic dateless bloke. She located a door that she presumed led out to the lobby. Picking up her pace, she was almost free…

Somewhat predictably, no sooner had she reached the door than a spotlight washed over her. She tripped over her tall black heels and smiled sheepishly at all the staring faces.

"Look at the pretty girl in the red dress," a deep voice boomed through the microphone. Hermione forced herself to smile again. "Now we won't let you be left out, will we?" The crowd reluctantly shook their heads, playing along. "Well now, don't you worry. Why don't you dance with that strapping young man over there?"

It was more of a command than a question. The DJ sent another spotlight to a dejected looking man, sitting by himself, moodily sipping champagne. He was the only one at the table and looked quite out of place.

Accepting that things at the very least could not get any worse tonight, Hermione began to trudge toward him. She stopped suddenly; alarmed at the way he was scrutinizing her. The look on his face was that of deepest disgust. _Well that's just great. Don't flatter yourself; I do not want to dance with some sad bloke who nobody wants to sit with either. _Hermione glared at him expectantly.

The man stood up, and to her surprise he did not look like a random loser who couldn't find a date. He was tall, blond, handsome, and had an air of pure confidence resonating from him. He sauntered over, although reluctantly it seemed to her. "What's his problem?" she thought angrily. Hermione had thought that she looked great tonight—she had gotten her hair styled for the wedding, and the dress, despite how uncomfortable it was, still made her look great.

He was now standing right next to her.

"May I have your am Miss," he said loudly, his eyes flickering. His voice was edgy, if not a bit sarcastic. Most of the crowd seemed to lose interest and resumed their dancing.

"Why yes, I suppose I must," she replied rudely. If he was going to be offensive than so was she. He had already offended her by his lack of enthusiasm. Why should she care if she was disrespectful now?

He frowned and took her hand, pulling her roughly into the crowd. His hand was clutching her back tightly, sending a tremor down her spine. They began to dance in time to the music. Hermione had never been much of a dancer, but luckily he seemed to know how to lead like a proper man should. The arrangement was looking up in her opinion, as the bloke did not seem to be in the mood for idle chit-chat.

_So you buried all your lover's clothes  
and burned the letters lover wrote,  
but it doesn't make it any better.  
_Does_ it make it _any_ better?_

"Still no manners I see, Granger," he whispered maliciously into her ear, a smirk finally making its way onto his face. He snickered as her face fell.

Hermione hoped she was hallucinating. It was _Malfoy_. She would know that voice anywhere. Why would he even be **at** Ron's wedding? It was so outrageous Hermione almost wanted to laugh. Was this someone's idea of a joke? Had somebody from Hogwarts owled ahead of time to say that Hermione and Draco shared by far the most wrenching history, so be sure to make them dance together? She looked up and Draco caught her eye; his were brimming with disgust. His face no longer looked amused, just bored, but very handsomely so. He was undoubtedly thinking of some way to humiliate her in front of all of upscale society.

"I'm not going to humiliate myself by running away from you," she said.

He gritted his teeth angrily. He would not humiliate himself either by acting so childish as to leave her standing there. Though he desperately wanted to do just that to the filthy mudblood, he could not. Something like that would put him back in the public eye of the media as a heartless bastard. An image Pansy had tried to steer them away from as the Dark Lord had fallen out of the public's eyes once more. Not a single attack in over a year. But humiliating her would be something to finally pay her back for…well, for always just being there.

"I'm not either," he finally supplied after an awkward moment of silence.

"Well isn't this just wonderful," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She looked up at Draco; he towered a good five inches above her. She was much too tired and depressed to fight with him about Muggles, Purebloods, and the like. 

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Ron's eyes boring into her own, his arms wrapped lovingly, yet distractedly around Lavender's. She grimaced at where his hands were placed on Lavender's perfect body. The green monster was consuming her completely…not exactly the best time to be placed in the arms of Ron's worst enemy. But, it might just be the perfect place for revenge. Furiously, she leaned into Draco's chest, catching him off guard. Ron winced and she swore that he looked a bit disappointed. If only he knew who this man actually was; then he would _really_ be pissed.

She closed her eyes and pretended that she was fine seeing him like this. That there were other people out there besides _him_. She told herself that even Malfoy looked better than that imbecile right now.

Draco could sense something was wrong. Granger was practically hugging him. Things like that should **never** happen. He felt so violated. She was so nervy to even dare touch him with her Muggle germs. Subconsciously, he followed her angry gaze towards Weasley and Lavender, realization dawning. He realized that he could recall memories of seeing Ron and Hermione together in seventh year, his childish taunts finally holding some basis. And his own happy memories of the day they had broken up--the trio had been so miserable. So separate.

She's in love with a married man, he thought amusedly. He knew it was wrong, but he found a bit of satisfaction that someone else was as unhappy in their romantic life as he was. It was sad really, how no one ever found what they were looking for. Not that he cared a bit about Hermione Granger and her pitiful love life.

The way she was pressing against him, began to make him uneasy. It was one thing for her to be a bit depressed—this desperate pitiful act was so strange. She looked vulnerable and sad, clutching him like they were two normal people that would not mind being close to each other, to be touching each other.

She was completely deranged.

It gave him an idea. On impulse his hands began to caress her waist, her hips, her back. She stiffened. He wondered how far he could push this. Getting into bed with Granger would be an achievement that he would _never_ forget. Not that she would ever consent, but maybe if he made it look that way to Potter… He slowly and tentatively began touching the places he would never have guessed he would be touching. The arch of her back, the indent of her waist. A desire to try and kiss her pulsed through him, but all he could do was stare down at her in contemplation. Maybe that would be disgusting…he had been with mudbloods before, but he had never kissed them, only used them.

Hermione stopped ignoring his advances and glared up at him in dismay. She felt lightness in her lower abdomen, wobbliness in her legs. What was he doing? She knew what _her_ motives for acting like this were, but his?

...It was a wedding—maybe he had just drunk a few too many glasses of chardonnay. Her cheeks were deeply flushed as she pulled away from his touch.

"I don't know what you're doing, but I don't think this is a good idea," she murmured.

"Well, of course it isn't," he said, suddenly flustered. Embarrassed that she had to be the one to tell him to stop. "I didn't ask them to pair us together."

"Well, it's almost over," she said, rolling her eyes. Once again she let her eyes wander toward Ron and Lavender, the happy couple.

"Is it really that bad to dance with me?" Malfoy broke in. He looked like he was on the verge of laughter, but just let another smirk dance along his lips, "…or do you have to keep staring at that hideous Weasel over there…" He nodded in the direction of Ron and Lavender.

_So this is strange,  
our sidestepping has come to be a brilliant dance  
where nobody leads at all,  
where nobody leads at all._

She didn't want to make him feel bad. But then again why should she care how the hell he felt?

"No I don't care about dancing with you although I can not pretend that it doesn't disgust me just bit. But I know you didn't want to dance with _me_." It was hard not to let her hurt shine through. But she knew that it was the jealousy of Lavender, and her own obvious vulnerability that made her cry—not him.

"Gr-Granger—are you crying?" He looked appalled. From all of his insults over the years, he had never once made her cry. This little situation was tame in comparison to the things he had said to her, the things he had done to her and her friends over the years. Gryffindors were supposed to be brave after all. Now here she was crying over nothing. It was the type of sobbing where tears streamed freely down your cheeks, but didn't involve much noise, just some shaking and little hiccups now and then.

She didn't answer him, but her brief weeping session seemed to quickly be drawing to an end.

"So," he began, "Weasley's really the one you're after, not Potty?" It was a simple question. One he had wondered about in brief lapses of boredom. He tried to look like he did not care as she contemplated the question.

"Do I really have to answer that?" She looked up at him curiously, awaiting his next clever reply.

"No, because it's obvious," he smirked and twirled her around, and when she was in his arms again he added, "…I saw the way you looked at him." It was horrible, hideous, the idea of Weasley and Granger together. He did not know why, but the thought grossed him out beyond words. Maybe they belonged together. The filthy mudblood and the filthy bloodtraitor.

Ron and Lavender came into view once more, both of their stares aimed directly at them—a look of recognition dawning in Ron's handsome face as he stared at the face of Hermione's mysterious date. He winced, beside himself with anger at the nerve of Malfoy to touch Hermione.

Never having felt happier with Ron's discomfort and before she could think about the consequences of what she was doing she pulled Draco towards her and embraced him into a lengthy snog, one she would of rather quite enjoyed had she not been so overwhelmed with the circumstances and the recipient of the kiss. He was kissing her back, she noted, but refused to let it get out of control. She sighed. It felt so good to be this close to someone again.

Suddenly she froze, backing away sharply. What the hell was she doing? She glanced around the dance floor, sifting through all of the faces for Ron's. He had turned away, apparently still twirling Lavender about.

_They aren't even looking anymore. _

_Ron doesn't care. _

_What a dumb thing to do. _

So many horrible thoughts were pulsing though her head. She could not bear to think about Draco's reaction, the look he would give her when she finally looked up into his eyes.

_Well you'd like to think that you were invincible.  
Yeah, well weren't we all once before we felt loss for the first time?  
Well this is the last time.  
This is the last time.  
This is the last time._

In a blur she looked up at him and he tore away from her. He was running towards the very exit she had tried to escape from in the beginning of this whole mess. She bolted towards the door, her feet clicking painfully along in her awful shoes. She could see his silouhette silently running to the end of the boulevard outside the chapel.

"Draco!" She felt so horrible for doing that to him. It was so wrong. But he was such a prick! So what if she was a mudblood? Malfoy must have been really dense if he still believed all of that old world shit about disease and germs from Muggles. He ignored her calls as he trudged outside. She persisted. She just had to explain to him what had happened.

Finally she reached him, her hand grabbing onto his tuxedo. He spun around quickly, his face changing from appalled to looking plain mad.

"If you really don't want to talk to me about what happened than just apparate home already!" she screamed. He must want to talk to her a little bit if he was still sticking around.

"I _can't_! I promised Blaise that I would wait for him. I don't give a _fuck_ what you have to say," he said.

_Of_ _course_, she thought to herself, _Blaise_. That's why he's here. She shivered as the cold air took its toll on her.

He sat down on the curb, reaching out and combing his hands through his hair. He knew that she had done that to evoke jealousy in Ron, but still… he had _kissed_ _Granger_. The sick thing was that he had almost kissed her back for his own want. Maybe he had.

"Well I'm sorry about that," she muttered, taking away whatever dignity she had left. "I was just really upset. I don't know what got into me. I just had no idea what to do when I saw him like that."

"So when in doubt kiss Draco?" he asked sarcastically. "It was just a bloody kiss, kisses aren't anything to me." Unless they are from filthy mudbloods. "Just forget it, no one even saw." He was not sure about that, but he said it anyway. For his own sanity. He just wanted her to leave.

Why was she not leaving? "I would go back in there but it wouldn't look right if I walked back inside with you. Potter would think I had attacked you or raped you or some variation on that." It was starting to snow, and she nodded, too upset to argue with his annoying anecdotes.

"So get on, go back to the party and spy on the Weasel some more."

He sighed. She still wasn't leaving. He stood up and hastily offered her his jacket, giving her a push. She raised her eyebrows at him, confused.

"So go back inside now," he said harshly, mustering up as much annoyance in his voice as he could. She slipped on his tuxedo in a daze and hugged it around her frame before she could feel any colder, if that was even possible, and ran back into the lobby.

**Author's Note: **So how did you like it? PLEASE REVIEW!!! I just wrote this in the middle of the night one time, and then a few weeks later I decided to continue it and now I'm going to try and update it frequently. If you review I'll be happier and update faster. :0 Anyway I credit my awesome beta Alecto Black! Thanks for reading. 

**Next Time in Gifts and Curses:** Hermione tries to return something of Draco's, but is in for a nasty shock. Also see a bit more of what happened between her Ron, Harry, and the war.


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